


would you have me? would you want me?

by fullmetallizard



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Havocai, I'm not great at modern au's but what can ya do, it really has nothing to do with fma itself but i just have a soft spot for this ship, the t is just for jean's potty mouth, this started as a way to fight writer's block but then I kind of liked it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26594239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetallizard/pseuds/fullmetallizard
Summary: He thought suddenly of the phrase “carrying a torch.” That didn’t sound so bad, really. It could keep him warm. Lonely, maybe, but some of Riza was better than none of her. He could keep carrying it, he thought. It could be enough.Or it could burn him right up. Sometimes he felt that it might.
Relationships: Jean Havoc/Riza Hawkeye
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	would you have me? would you want me?

**Author's Note:**

> Despite loving it so, so very much, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist in any capacity.

Jean tried to swallow down the feeling that he was making the biggest mistake of his life. The nervousness started as a pit in his stomach but spread through him like ink and his heart started fluttering. He tried to focus instead on the soft crunching of the gravel under his boots. His hand traveled to the half empty pack of smokes in his back pocket but he changed his mind. He didn’t want to smell like cigarette smoke. He wanted this to be right. He needed this to be right.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he stopped by a streetlight to read the text. Riza was wondering if they were still hanging out that day. He stared at the words until they were too blurry to mean anything and he looked across the street to the river instead.

This was Riza’s favorite time of year. There was the slightest bite of chill in the air, enough for a cardigan, and the leaves were starting to grow tinged with reds and oranges. He knew this. He knew that when he knocked on the door and asked if she wanted to go for a walk instead of going to grab coffee that she would say yes and that she would be happy about it. He knew that she’d reach for her thickest cardigan, an old, knitted grey thing.

He realized this is where his certainties about the day ended and he started to rethink his whole decision. Maybe now wasn’t the right time to tell her. Maybe she didn’t need to know at all. They had such a good thing going. He wasn’t even sure if she was still hung up on Roy, she barely talked about him. He could just stay her best friend. He could.

He thought suddenly of the phrase “carrying a torch.” That didn’t sound so bad, really. It could keep him warm. Lonely, maybe, but some of Riza was better than none of her. He could keep carrying it, he thought. It could be enough.

Or it could burn him right up. Sometimes he felt that it might.

He shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ ,” he muttered at himself as he unlocked his phone to answer her. He almost said no. He even convinced himself he was going to.

He typed, “already on the way” instead.

He ran a hand through his hair a few times, taking deep breaths. He was pretty close to her apartment already. He didn’t feel ready.

 _“You don’t have to do it all,”_ something inside reminded him.

He knew that. He did.

Jean continued in the direction of Riza’s apartment anyways.

The moment after he knocked on the door, he thought about booking it. He rolled his eyes at himself. “ _You’re not ding dong ditching your best friend. Get a fucking grip. What’s the worst that could happen?”_

As soon as he had the thought, Riza opened the door and smiled at him. His heart rate picked up without his permission. “Hey,” she smiled softly. “I don’t know what I’m more shocked about. The fact that you are not only not late but that you are actually early. Hell must have frozen over,” she teased.

He was speechless for a moment. No one should have the right to look that beautiful in just jeans and a loose-fitting green shirt. It made her eyes glow, soft and honey colored. Her cheeks were slightly pink, she always kept it cold in her apartment.

He realized that the worst that could happen is not seeing this again. Putting a distance and awkwardness between them until it eventually unraveled them was the worst thing. It was a possibility. A probability even. She’d let him down easy, he knew that about her. But this sort of issue ruined things.

“Jean?” She asked. Her smile fell a bit, replacing itself with concern clouding her eyes. “Are you alright?”

He mentally shook himself off. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m good. Slightly out of it today. Sorry,” he forced a grin, begging himself to just please act normal. He decided to keep his mouth shut, torch-holding be damned. “The weather is cooler than yesterday. Do you want to take a walk instead?” He asked before he could think better of it.

Riza stepped out onto the stoop, as if to test the weather, before smiling at him. “Oh, this is my favorite kind of day,” she sighed. He knew that but it still felt special to hear her say it. He loved feeling like he’d just delivered her a happy piece of news, even if it was something the weather widget on her phone could have let her know just as easily.

“I’d love a walk,” she said, stepping back into her apartment and holding the door open for him. “And I know Hayate would too. I’m going to grab my sweater and some water for him, can you go ahead and put his leash on?”

He nodded, following her in.

Hayate was excited to see him, like always. While scratching his ears and clipping his leash onto his collar, he tried to ignore the annoyance he felt at himself. He knew he was acting off. Nervous, flighty. He reminded himself that Riza was the most perceptive human being he knew so he had to cut it out quick. Why was he subjecting himself to this? What would happen if he kept quiet, would he die?

Riza re-entered the room, wearing that damned cardigan, and he felt like he very well might. Was it selfish? Probably. But Jean wasn’t built for self-torment. He wanted to hold her hand, to wrap her up in his arms, to kiss her, but maybe even more than that, he just wanted the damn weight off of him.

“Are you ready?” She asked, slipping her feet into her boots, looking up to smile at him.

His heart, the fickle bastard, picked up again. “As I’ll ever be.”

They walked along the river. They were quiet for a few minutes, though Riza’s silence seemed to stem from contentedness rather than anxiety like his own. “Have you heard from Roy?” He asked, keeping his tone as lighthearted as he could manage. Best to get that out of the way, he decided. That could end his predicament right there.

She sighed but he couldn’t guess the emotion behind it. “No,” she answered. “I don’t think I’m going to reach out to him. At least for a while or until we can learn how to be friends.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked up to the clouds.

Jean did too, sunset was closing in and the sky was purple-pink and hazy. This was new. Up until she said that, he wasn’t sure at all where her feelings for Roy Mustang lied. “Wanna talk about it?”

“There really isn’t too much to tell. There’s too much history. It’s too complicated. I don’t think we bring anything good out of each other anymore, maybe not for a while. I fought it but now I just…I don’t know I guess I’ve reached some sort of acceptance about it.”

He started to ponder on it but his gaze (and Hayate’s nose) quickly locked onto one of his favorite sights in the world. _“Tamale Lady!”_ He whisper-screamed.

Riza looked across the street and smiled softly. He kicked himself for a second for interrupting her but much like the soliciting policy of the street, most rules (social or legal) could be broken for Tamale Lady.

“Well, of course we have to get some. It’s tradition, after all,” she informed him. “Hi, Soledad!” She called out before crossing the street, turning her head halfway across to make sure he was behind her.

The short woman with salt and pepper hair greeted them warmly, as she always did. She knew their usuals. Riza asked her about her grandchildren while their food was prepared and Jean studied her profile.

Every small thing about Riza, the fact that she remembered the name of the soccer team Soledad’s grandson played for the previous season, that she was so studious and serious most of the time but always had kindness to share, every single fucking thing about her added up into someone he couldn’t help but love. How could he not? How could _anyone_ not?

Jean paid for the both of them, despite Riza’s objections. They were basically a formality at this point plus Jean could practically feel the ghost of the small slap upside the head he’d receive from his mother if she found out he didn’t pay for Riza’s food. She carried the tinfoil covered plates while he kept a hold on Hayate’s leash. They walked back across the street and made a short trek to a bench that over-looked the water.

None of these things were new. But Jean had butterflies. He wanted to crush them down. He hated this. He hated feeling this way, scared and nervous. Riza was his best friend. He tried to tell himself that was enough.

“Something is bothering you,” Riza noted quietly after giving Hayate his water and taking a bite of her tamale. She was staring at the river. It was relatively still today and the slowly darkening night reflected on the surface. “I can tell.”

“Why do you say that?” He asked, pretty proud of how well he managed to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m perfectly fine. It’s a nice evening.”

“It is,” she agreed quietly.

He took a small bite of his food.

“See?” Riza asked.

He looked over and she had turned and was looking at him. “See what?”

“Look at that tiny bite. Something _is_ bothering you. I’ve never seen you eat a tamale from Soledad this slowly. What’s wrong, Jean?”

He sighed. “Nothing is wrong.” He was shocked to see hurt in her eyes. _No, no._ He hadn’t even said anything and already he was stressing her out. “Hawk, what is it?”

“I don’t know why you’re keeping things from me. I thought we didn’t do that. I’ve had enough of that.” Her voice was shockingly small but still controlled and calm. He knew she had to be thinking of Roy, of her father, of the fact that she had to pay for public record files to learn any more about her mother than her first name.

“I’m…I don’t want to keep things from you,” Jean said, the most honest answer he could think of.

“Then don’t.” She answered. As if it were that simple.

“I’m fine, Riza. Everything is fine.” He tried to sound reassuring but the way her brow furrowed as she looked back over the water told him he wasn’t successful in that.

She didn’t answer. The cicadas were already starting to die down but the distant hum was still around. Hayate jumped after a cricket and then laid happily on the grass beside the bench and closed his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally supplied after the silence became too much. His voice was softer than he meant for it to come out.

“I know you don’t,” she sighed. “But you know me. I’m imagining the worst over here.”

Did he even want to know what the worst was?

“Jean, are you sick?” She finally asked.

The confusion that hit him was almost physically disorienting. “Hawk…I…what?”

“You haven’t smoked at all this whole time. You’re not eating your food right now. You’re acting so nervous and withdrawn. I’ve never known you to be withdrawn. You’re being cryptic and it’s scaring me.”

He almost laughed but didn’t. “No, I’m not sick. I promise.”

“Then what? What _is_ it?” He couldn’t stand the edge of anxiety her voice held, he couldn’t stand being the cause of it.

“I was just…nervous, is all.” He felt his face flush.

“Nervous?” It was her turn to be bewildered with confusion. Understandable, he reasoned. No need to be nervous around the person you knew most in the world, someone you spent so much time with.

This was it. His options now were keep being suspicious and hurt her, or tell her the truth and hurt her. There was no way out of this. But Jean Havoc was not a liar.

“Yeah,” he admitted, looking at the water. He could hear is pulse thumping in his ears. Preemptive sorrow blossomed in his chest. “I guess I’ve known for a while but lately it’s…you’re all I can think about, Riza. I wake up every morning thinking about you and go to bed wishing you were there. And I’m sorry. I am so goddamned sorry because you’re my best friend and I tried to talk myself out of it, I really did. Out of telling you, out of feeling this way at all. I-”

His word vomit was interrupted by the feeling of Riza slipping her hand into his. Here it was. The let-down. And there was going to be nothing easy about it.

“All of this is because you love me?” She asked.

He could gauge nothing off of her tone and his cheeks burned despite the chill in the air, he knew he had to be beet red.

“Yes.”

“Oh, Jean,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

The beginning of tears started to sting behind his eyes. He blinked hard. “I’m sorry. I really do think the number one ruiner of friendships has got to be unrequited love.”

“Unrequited,” she chuckled. “Jean, it’s not unrequited if it’s reciprocated.”

He finally summoned the courage to look over and study her face. She was smiling softly, eyes not really focused on anything. Her cheeks were pink, maybe from the cold. Maybe from him.

At some point in the conversation the streetlights had turned on. He watched a moth bounce against the glass surrounding the foggy yellow light and tried to will his heart to slow down at least enough for him to think. Of all the scenarios he played out in his mind to her response to his admission, he hadn’t considered this one.

“I don’t…understand,” he whispered.

She turned to face him and the fondness in her eyes finally gave him some calm. “You are my favorite person in the world. No one makes me laugh like you. No one makes me feel as safe as you do. I don’t know how you don’t see how good you are. Or that I’ve felt the same for a while.”

He sat, processing when Riza moved her hand from its light clasp on his fingers to gently cup the side of his face. “I love you,” he choked out.

The smile she gave made him feel hope for the first time since he came to the realization. Hope, as it often did, started to overcloud the dread. He welcomed the soft kiss she placed on his lips. His hand found the back of her neck, fingers tangling lightly in her hair.

When they broke apart, he grinned.

There was so much he wanted to say now that it was finally out. But he found that it was just as satisfying to sit and enjoy the weight of Riza laying her head on his shoulder. He kept his hand in her hair. His brain and heart finally stopped racing he wanted to sit and bask in the warmth of it all.

“I love you too,” she answered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Love you, mean it!


End file.
